Some Noise
by hellzgranny
Summary: Link's pov. He's being introspective, which makes sense because he doesn't really talk much. He's thinking about what it is that makes him keep fighting, because he isn't sure he knows. Not really that angsty, but it's the descrip that fit.


Some Noise

For the fourth time that night a wave of raucous laughter filled the tavern, making Link edge further along the bar to keep to himself. All the tables were filled with parties of locals and travelers alike made bold and dull-witted with drink. Although in his own country, surrounded by people of similar features and complexions, he felt as though he were in a foreign land. He was dressed in the clothing of the forest people; coarse and heavy fabric made to blend with foliage. It was plain and worn from many battles. The few garments he owned were all of this minimal sort. He was comfortable in them, for he had worn them all his life, yet these same familiar clothes made him seem strange to his real kinsman. He was not of the forest people, and he ought not to have dressed as one. He may have learned the music of the trees and held his first sword deep in the heart of that untamed land, but he was grown tall and lean now. He had the long ears and keen blue eyes of a Hylian, and the people who had raised him knew him not. He ran a hand through straw colored hair that also betrayed his true race, and chanced a look at his surroundings.

One barista walked amongst the tables replacing empty drinks with fresh ones while the other stayed behind the counter. She was watching Link as she washed the dirty beer stines her coworker retrieved. Not desiring conversation, he carefully avoided making eye contact. He stared instead into his own pint of mead and tried to think of something to block out the noise. He couldn't understand their happiness. With so much suffering all around, how could they feel anything, let alone joy? It offended him, but he wondered if he were merely jealous. Something inside him would not let him accept the way things were. He knew he would continue to resist Ganon's takeover until his boldness got him killed. It was only a matter of time before the conqueror from the desert lands quashed all rebellion and abolished the very name of Hyrule in favor of some new title. The thought of it made Link's blood pump faster, but he did not know why. This place was hardly a home to him, so why did he care? No place was his home, and yet he strove to protect any place that Ganon sought to claim. Perhaps, he considered, it was that Ganon's conquests were making more unfortunate orphans like himself. Perhaps he was simply fighting to rebel against his own fate.

Link curled his fingers around the mug and brought it to his lips. The drink had sat untouched long enough to reach room temperature, and was bitter and unsatisfying, but it held the promise of intoxication and escape. The elf drank deeply, finishing it without a breath. He set down the mug and closed his eyes, ignoring the small, glowing creature that had alighted on his shoulder. The tiny fairy began to scold into his ear, tugging on the piercings to make sure he could not ignore her. She did not want him to be drunk and reckless like the other men. She was afraid he would forget his mission. Her purpose was to guide and protect him, as dictated by the ancient Deku tree. The tree's spirit and life had been taken by Ganon, but as it died it bequeathed it's revenge on Link and the fairy, Navi. They must make sure no other creature would suffer as the spirit had. They were to protect the forest in its stead. The responsibility seemed to be all that little Navi knew. He wondered if there was room in her for any other thought. The Kokiri -the people of the forest- were connected inextricably to their fairies. When one died, so would the other. Link wondered if Navi would die when he did, since he was not a true Kokiri and was not connected to her at birth.

Finally, he grew too weary of the tavern's cheer to stay there any longer. He inquired about a room in as few words as possible, and was much relieved to find they had an empty one prepared. Often, resting outside, Link would be awoken from sleep by wild beasts. The creatures were made bold by the country's turmoil and venturing closer to town than they naturally should have. He was glad of the chance to sleep undisturbed, and on a proper bed. It felt unfamiliar, but such a feeling was one he had learned to expect. Finding things foreign was, itself, becoming familiar to him.

Link removed the gauntlets from his wrists and laid his shield and possessions against the wall, then put out the oil lamp and attempted to sleep. The fairy crawled into his discarded cap and, to the best of his knowledge, did likewise (although, he suspected fairies did not sleep in any conventional sense of the word).

Please R + R, or I won't submit the rest. Hah! 


End file.
